


In My Bones

by ivysea



Series: songs for his Witcher [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Pre-Slash, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:07:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25191400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivysea/pseuds/ivysea
Summary: He hoped Geralt would forget him. That he would move on to another bard or another companion, another quest. Jaskier hoped to remember it all, save for the past week. He wanted to forget the cruel words and the warm kisses. He wanted to remember the laughs and the songs. The grunts and his monologues. Geralt was not his to kiss or to cherish. He was not even his friend, and for that he would have to move on with his life.songfic to Ron Pope's In My Bones
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: songs for his Witcher [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1824904
Comments: 5
Kudos: 154





	In My Bones

**Author's Note:**

> REUPLOAD!  
> I had originally had this separated into two parts but I am going to combine them here that way part two can be a new piece of their journey :) 
> 
> Just a short little look into Jaskier and Geralt after the mountain. The song is In My Bones by Ron Pope (BEAUTIFUL!!) I definitely recommend giving it a listen while you read.

_But it's my fault, I don't care_  
_I can't hate you if you're not here_  
_Once you go, never ever turn around_  
  
_I have sacrificed, I have burned_  
_Oh, you gotta live before you learn_  
_But I wanted the truth, and sometimes the truth hurts_  
_…_

Jaskier had made it down the mountain in one piece, thank the gods. He’d stomped his way down to the base of the forsaken thing faster than he’d ever walked before. He had to put distance between himself and his Witcher. No, not his Witcher. Geralt was nothing to Jaskier, just as Jaskier was nothing to him. In all is years, he’d never expected to feel so empty. He’d never realized how he’d built himself around Geralt. 

“Half my life.” He muttered, kicking a stone across his path. “I gave that bastard half my life.”

In all the times before, Jaskier would’ve quelled his hurt with the knowledge that they’d always run into each other again. They could start with a clean slate over and over because heaven knows that Geralt would never utter an apology for the things he said. In all the times before, that was enough for the bard. He could bury his hurt and resume their friendship as if nothing had happened. He shook his head as he remembered that they were not friends, so there was nothing to go back to when he saw the Witcher again. 

Against his better judgement, he stopped at an inn that was far too close to the trail Geralt and Roach would make their way down. But he was tired, and he wanted nothing more than to curl up and wallow in his  loss after filling his belly with something warm. Unfortunately, his reputation made it to the inn before he did, and the patrons chanted for a song as he ate his meal. 

One brave barmaid approached him slowly and leaned against the table with wide eyes. “Will you please sing for us, bard? We’d love to hear of the White Wolf.” 

He did not want to sing of the White Wolf, in Jaskier’s eyes he was no longer a hero to be worshiped. He was cowardly and cruel. He was cold. 

“I have other songs, you know.” He griped, taking a sip of ale and meeting her eyes. She was fair, and clearly interested. Had he not been set on wallowing the night away, he’d entice her back to his quarters after a performance. 

“Oh, I am sure you do sir.” She batted her eyes and leaned closer still. “But I’d love to hear the ballads of  your Witcher . I’ve heard nothing compares to your work.” Geralt would’ve huffed at that, maybe even landed a kick to  Jaskier’s shins under the table. He’d hated when the bard participated in shameless flirtations. That didn’t matter now, of course. Geralt was gone from his life. 

“He’s as much my Witcher as he is yours.” He laughed ruefully, weighing his options. On one hand, singing  of Geralt would shatter his heart over again, but it would offer him a female distraction later in the evening. On the other hand, he could refuse to sing and save himself from the lasting sting of  Geralt’s words. He would be forced to spend the evening alone though. 

“I don’t sing about the wolf any longer, but for you lot, I’ll give it a go.” He teased as he climbed onto his table to begin his performance. 

He sang for them. And as he sang, his heart would break and mend and break again. He missed Geralt already, he missed the semblance of friendship they had built. He missed white hair and strong arms. He missed grunts and eyerolls and Roach. Gods, he’d miss so much of the other man. That did not matter now, though. Geralt had destiny and Yennefer and his child surprise to worry over, so there was no point in  Jaskier worrying over him. 

As his final song came to an end, the patrons tossed their coin to him and allowed him to retire to his quarters. The barmaid from before shot him a look that screamed ‘I’ll see you soon’ and on his way past the innkeeper, he asked for a bath. It had been so long since he’d been allowed a warm soak and he wouldn’t want to carry the smell of a travelling bard into bed with the barmaid. 

“Of course, I’ll have one of the girls fill the tub for you. The bath hall is the final door to your right and your room is two doors before that, bard.” He smiled. 

Jaskier sulked to his room and deposited his belongings on the bed before collecting a change of clothing and making his way to his bath. As he sank down in the hot water, he remembered the times he had  washed Geralt . He’d scrubbed his scarred back and untangled his white hair, trying to convey all he felt in his touches. Obviously, Geralt never picked up on what he meant to the bard, maybe if he had he wouldn’t have wished him away. 

As he relaxed in the water, he began piecing together a new song in his head. It would be his final ballad for his old friend. He hoped that for once, Geralt would understand what he was trying to say as he hummed a soft melody. 

  
_“I thought I saw and angel calling me across the yard_  
_Said baby, it's been real, but now I'm gone_  
_I should've known much better, you can't tame something that wild...”_

As he sang softly to himself, the door was flung open. He pictured the barmaid from before as the door clicked shut behind her. She made a rather loud entrance, not as graceful as he’d imagined, but company was company after all. There was a short wall between them, but he knew she must’ve been flushed and shy, maybe even embarrassed by her clumsy entrance. But all was well with him, fair maidens were the perfect distraction for a broken-hearted bard. They had been for the last 20 years of his travels and that would in no way change tonight. 

“Ah, I see someone decided to join me after all...” He said, shifting to peak over at his guest. “You’ll have to forgive me; I haven’t quite finished my soak. But I can make room for one more.” 

When he finally saw the figure in the doorway, his stomach lurched. It was no fair maiden. It was one Geralt of  Rivia , soaked to the bone and covered in blood and grime, as per usual. He did not speak and neither  did Jaskier . The silence wore on, pressing down on the men, forcing all the pain  Jaskier had hidden to bubble up to the surface. 

“You’re upset.” Geralt stated, staring at Jaskier. He assumed his facial expression gave him up as he continued to stare. How could Geralt waltz in again? 

“What of it?” He sniffed, continuing to scrub his skin. He hoped his ministrations would hide the blush that was creeping up under his skin. He’d always hated the way Geralt’s gaze made him feel so exposed. 

“The things I said to you...” Geralt began, taking a step forward.

No. Jaskier could not do this again. He’d vowed to himself to disentangle himself from the Witcher. He’d vowed to move away from their once shared path and start again somewhere else.

“Stop. There is nothing more to say, Witcher. You have spoken your piece and I have listened. There is no need to reiterate and there is no need to worry. I will leave you alone from this point on.” Jaskier rambled, finally making eye contact with wide, golden eyes. 

“I misspoke before, Jaskier.” 

With that line, the bard’s heart plummeted to the bottom of the tub he sat in. This was not supposed to happen. They were done, their partnership had been dissolved the moment Geralt yelled on the mountainside. He just needed the other man to stay away for a few months, allowing him to move on. He had to move on. 

“No dear Witcher, you did not. You only spoke the truth.” Jaskier said, keeping his voice light. He wasn’t here to yell, or to fight. He was here to wash away the remnants of their final quest. 

Geralt growled and paced towards Jaskier quickly. That wouldn’t do. They were not supposed to speak again, to argue what could have been or should have been. Jaskier knew he had to end the conversation before it could begin. 

“There is nothing else to be said. You may exit.” Jaskier said, reveling in the emotions that crossed the other man’s face. Anger, sadness, fear, hurt. Ah, so maybe Witchers did feel after all. 

“No.” 

Jaskier rolled his eyes and stood, ignoring the way  Geralt’s gaze raked over him. He dried himself quickly and threw on his sleeping attire. Geralt hadn’t moved or made a sound, just watched. He was still  blocking Jaskier’s exit. 

“Move.” Jaskier snapped, standing right in front of the larger man. Many would’ve quivered in fear, but he was not scared. He had never been afraid of his Witcher. No, the Witcher. Never his. 

“I don’t want you to leave.” Geralt said, running a hand through his hair and staring into  Jaskier’s very  soul. The unspoken ‘me’ at the end of the sentence ricocheted off every surface in the room. Every fiber of his being was begging him to stay, to ease his companion into the bath water and wash him clean before retiring to bed with him. His soul wanted to fall back into their pattern of comfortable acquaintance. But he knew better. He knew that their relationship was just a partnership of convenience; nothing more and nothing less. 

“I am going to my quarters. I will sleep here for the night and then I am leaving to Oxenfurt.” He said, slipping past and walking towards his room. He wanted an apology from the other man, not two sentences and an emotional stare. It just wasn’t enough any longer. Maybe they had always been destined to part ways. 

He watched as the other man’s face fell slightly, lips parted as if he was going to argue. But Geralt didn’t argue. He grunted and hummed and followed the Path. 

Geralt did not follow him. For once, he thanked the gods for that. 

Once he made it to his room, he sank down onto the bed with his lute and began to play his newest tune. It was somber, unlike his usual ballads but it was about the same subject as always.    
  
_“And it's my fault, I don't care_  
_I can't hate you if you're not here_  
_Once you go, never ever turn around_  
_I have sacrificed, and I've burned_  
_Oh, you’ve got to live before you learn_  
_And I wanted the truth, but sometimes the truth hurts”_

There was an echoing thud from the room next to his, as if its occupant had slammed something into the wall. Odd. Obviously, he was not the only bitter soul in the inn. He continued to strum and think of lyrics, pausing to jot things down momentarily. If only Geralt could hear this one.

At that thought, there was a light tap on Jaskier’s door. It was too soft to be his Witcher, always harsh and loud in his motions, but silent when it came to speaking sweet nothings or jovial conversation. It must be a maid or the inn keeper, he thought as he paced to the door and flung it open. Once again, he was surprised to see Geralt staring at him. 

“Your song,” He began, pushing past the bard and into the small room. “Is it about...” He trailed off, looking at Jaskier with wide, golden eyes as if he expected the man to deny it and comfort him. To tell him he had not caused an awful amount of hurt. Jaskier would do no such thing, even as his body craved to wrap Geralt up and his tongue itched to lie, to comfort. 

“You.”  Jaskier responded, moving his lute to the ground and perching on the bed. He didn’t know what was expected of him, what he was supposed to say next. He’d never had a problem speaking before, but now every word caught in his throat and made his head spin. He’d never lacked the desire to speak  to Geralt before. Now, he could hardly look at him without waves of emotion crashing everywhere and making a mess inside him. 

“I don’t like it.” Geralt grumbled, not moving from his position in the room. Still staring at Jaskier. Of course he didn’t like it, he never liked the things Jaskier gave to him. He never asked for them either, so why had the bard expected anything but that?

“That’s no surprise dear, I don’t know why you now feel the need to announce common truths. It’s late and I’m tired.” Try as he might, he couldn’t shake the residual hurt from his voice. He wanted to be cool and collected, but pain seeped through the cracks with every syllable. 

There was silence for a moment. Jaskier stared down at his hands, thoroughly examining each callus he had from his music and each scar he had from his travels. Each mark was earned at the side of Geralt, a place he’d never wanted to leave. He knew he had to abandon his post; it was only hurting him. And even now, as he fought to push his companion away, every piece of him was on fire, hoping to stay.

“Jask-” A murmur of a nickname that was hardly used. Geralt sank to his knees in front of the bard. “I would like to go to the coast.” 

“Then go.” He replied, finally making eye contact with the man before him. He felt something twinge inside him as his Witcher knelt on the ground in front of him. Geralt did not beg. Not ever. And yet, there he was in front of the bard that he claimed to dislike. Jaskier always knew it wasn’t true, but the proof was still the slightest bit satisfying. 

Geralt’s faced flashed with emotion. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but no sound escaped. Jaskier knew he wanted to demand something, could feel it between them, but Geralt did not ask for things either. He simply took what he got and made do with it. 

“I would like to go to the coast,” He repeated, searching Jaskier’s face for any sort of understanding. “With you.” 

There it was. The revelation Jaskier had waited twenty-some years to hear. The revelation he’d dreamt of more often than not. Geralt of Rivia wanted him. He wanted to travel to a new place with the bard in tow, together. And yet, he knew they could not go to the coast together. Geralt had destiny to deal with and he was but a human, nearing the latter half of his life. They were bound to fail. 

“Oh, my dear Witcher, you know the words to a man’s heart that’s for certain.”  Jaskier whispered, placing one hand on  Geralt’s cheek. He must’ve washed since the last time they spoke; for his skin was soft and clean under  Jaskier’s hand.  Jaskier had always dreamt of this closeness, of placing his  hands against clean skin and staring into golden eyes. 

Geralt grunted. Ah, back to normal then, Jaskier thought as he debated on what to say next. His soul felt like it was ripping in two as he realized what he had to say. He could not go to the coast, or anywhere else with the other man. Geralt had wished him gone, and by the gods, he would fulfill his wish. 

He began speaking again, watching the color drain from Geralt’s face as he spoke. “I will not go with you today, or tomorrow, or any day from here forward. You wished me away and that is where I must stay, Geralt.”

Gold eyes flashed with panic. “No! I did not mean it. You must know that.” 

“I know. But it must have been true in part, and for that I have to stay away.” Jaskier said, smoothing his hand once more along Geralt’s cheek. He always assumed they would end up together in some way. He’d always wondered what it would be like to press his lips to Geralt’s, to take him apart piece by piece, to love him so gently that he softened day by day. He’d wondered for twenty years and it seemed he was destined to wonder for many more.

He never got the chance to learn those things about Geralt. And he never would. 

“It wasn’t true!” Geralt yelled, finally shattering the fragile composure that he had maintained for their talk. Jaskier had expected that, truly, and yet it still stung slightly. 

“I don’t like to be yelled at. I know that must seem odd, considering I am cheered for almost every night. But yelling, Geralt, is another thing entirely. It’s startling and cold. I’ve never liked it. Not even when I was young, just a small child who--” 

Jaskier’s babbling was interrupted by soft lips crashing against his own. He froze. This was not how the evening was supposed to go, and yet he couldn’t stop himself from reacting. He let his hands fist in the Witcher’s hair, smiling at the rough groan that escaped. He could listen to  Geralt’s sounds for the rest of his days. That realization stopped him in his tracks, using the grip he had in long, white locks to  pull Geralt’s lips from his own.

For a moment, they stared at one another, panting and searching for the words to say. “Geralt you must leave my quarters now. I will see you in the morning.”  Jaskier spoke softly, loosening his grip in  Geralt’s hair and moving his hand to cup his cheek again. 

“You will?” It was as if Geralt forgot all the years Jaskier had spent following him. Morning after morning, he was always there.

“Yes. And we will speak of feelings and whatnot then.”  Jaskier offered with a shaky smile. Geralt had kissed him and his heart was breaking and thundering and his thoughts were a mess. He needed to think. He needed to breathe. Without Geralt of Rivia for the night. 

Geralt nodded once, leaning forward to gather  Jaskier into what might be called a hug. He seemed reluctant to let go, like he was the one chasing and  Jaskier was the one running. It had never been that way before. Geralt had never knelt for him before either, many firsts for one night,  Jaskier thought as he allowed the other man to remain pressed to him for a moment. 

After Geralt left his room, albeit slowly and suspiciously,  Jaskier collapsed onto the bed. He was unsure of what to believe. He’d lived for years thinking his companion thought nothing but the worst of him, and then he had  it confirmed, and then said companion kissed him. He was confused and hurt. At that moment, he knew what he had to do. 

They needed separation. 

Geralt’s moment of regret over the truths he’d spilled could not change that he wanted destiny to remove  Jaskier from his path.  Jaskier had to leave him. It was the only way to heal. 

He slowly tugged his sleeping garments off and replaced them with dull colored riding clothes that he usually avoided. Tonight, he would ride out of this village and on to his home. He would leave the life he assumed he would live forever and return to what he r an from. Maybe it was his destiny. Maybe it was Geralt’s. 

As he slipped out into the hallway with his belongings, he paused for a moment at the door next to his own.  Geralt’s room. Of course. It would be so easy to knock, to slip in and take comfort from the source of his pain. He couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Instead, he allowed his palm to res t on the door, one final goodbye to the other man. 

As he rode out into the night, he felt hot tears slipping down his cheeks. 

“Goodbye, dear Witcher.” He whispered into the wind. 

He hoped Geralt would forget him. That he would move on to another bard or another  companion , another quest.  Jaskier hoped to rem e mber it all, save for the past week. He wanted to forget the cruel words and the warm kisses. He wanted to rem e mb e r the laughs and the songs. The grunts and his mon ologues.  Geralt was not his to kiss or to cherish. He was not even his friend, and for that he would have to move on with his life. 

  
_..._  
_And I am sure I'll be just fine_  
_If I remember she wasn't ever mine_  
_..._

In hindsight, leaving Geralt in the dust as he rode of the return to Oxenfurt may have been a weak plan.  Jaskier hated traveling alone, preferring the company of anyone other than his own thoughts. For a time, he travelled with other bards, but they all eventually found their towns. 

He was alone. And he was lonely. 

Each day, he’d flit from bar to bar, inn to inn, hoping to either find solace in another or find work for the night. Coin was running short and the miles between him and Oxenfurt were long yet. He couldn’t help but wonder where Geralt was, what magnificent feat he was accomplishing without being tied down by a loudmouth bard. 

Maybe he should’ve stayed. No, wrong again, he had to leave. He would do anything to grant Geralt peace and being apart was what he had wished. Well, it was what he’d wished despite the kiss they’d shared. Maybe it was bound to happen, a culmination of all their tension, regardless of how Geralt felt about him. As time passed, he’d found the anger he’d harbored fading and being replaced by longing. Maybe he’d always love the Witcher, his wolf. 

“Bard!” The innkeeper barked, breaking him out of his reverie. He’d found himself lost in thought  often on this journey. It was miserable in his humble opinion. Journe ys were meant to be spent babbling away to a companion. A strong, golden-eyed, brooding companion.

“Yes, sir? Would you like me to play another set?” He slurred, shoving away another empty cup.

“They want to hear of the white wolf, and if you cannot provide such songs, find another place to sulk.” The innkeeper grumbled, crossing his arms and staring at the bard. Maybe  Jaskier had run out of luck in this place. He’d been there for a few nights and refused to utter a single note related to his famed Witcher. 

Jaskier didn’t have the energy to argue with the man. Surely, they should have understood his pain. He was wallowing for Gods’ sake, not boasting about Geralt of  Rivia . He simply stood and removed himself from the inn, slumping against the wall outside. 

As soon as his head fell back against the brick, he realized he was tired- exhausted. A short nap couldn’t hurt. Short naps were for rejuvenation, long rests were for terrible dreams of love and loss and white hair. 

He was roused from his slumber by a boot tapping his ribcage. It was nothing hard, just startling, he told himself as he jumped to his feet and prepared for some type of confrontation. Instead, he was met with crossed arms and a grim expression. The wearer of said expression none other than the White Wolf himself. Geralt. 

Jaskier felt his blood run cold, ice thundering through his veins and into his heavy heart. “I see we meet again, Sir Witcher.” He said jovially, hoping to lighten the tension that was so clearly painted on Geralt’s face. 

“You left.” A mere grunt as Geralt gathered  Jaskier’s meager belongings in his grasp and turned towards Roach. 

“Where are you taking that?”  Jaskier asked, speeding to catch up with the other man. “That lute is expensive! Do not drop it!” 

“I woke and you were gone.” Geralt replied, as if that answered the questions the other man had asked. Jaskier yelped as his foot caught on a misplaced stone in their path, but eventually caught up to Geralt. The Witcher did not turn to face him, which was probably best for  Jaskier because he knew the mere sight of hurt in golden eyes would shatter his own heart.

“In my defense,” He began, slowing to catch his breath. The ale from before had not yet worn off and he was in no shape to match pace with a sober Witcher. “You were the one who wished me away from your path.” 

“A mistake.” Was all Geralt supplied, slinging  Jaskier’s things onto Roach’s back and patting her flank. It appeared the horse was in on this odd attempt to get  Jaskier’s attention, as she began walking away with his things. 

“I need more than that. Use your words and maybe I’ll consider following you again.”  Jaskier teased. He knew Geralt lacked the words that weighed heavy between them. Checkmate. He’d have to abandon this idea of a friendly walk to the next village. 

Geralt groaned and looked at  Jaskier , calculating his next words most likely. “I have a contract. You may come.” 

Jaskier felt laughter of a manic sort bubbling from his lips. Weeks ago, he would’ve laid down his life to hear such a line. Now, he did not know if it was a relief or a stab to his chest. He looked up to stare through tree branches at the blue sky, as if it would throw the  answer he desired down to him. It did no such thing. 

“I am not saying it to be superficial. I mean it,  Jaskier . I would like you to come.” Geralt said, still waiting for an answer. 

Jaskier did not know what to say. It felt as though Geralt was just spouting ideas, hoping one would stick and mend the damage from before. From his apology to their brief kiss to this invitation, it was all so scattered. It didn’t feel real.  Jaskier had seen so many mystical things in his years and this still felt pretend.  Witchers did not feel, they did not want, and they  definitely did not apologize profusely to bards. 

“Geralt,”  Jaskier said, slowing to a halt in the middle of their trail. They were deep into the forest by now, between villages most likely. “I don’t want you to tell me that you are sorry for the things that happened if it is not something you truly feel. This feels like I am a target and each word an arrow shooting out of random. I can’t tell what is real and what  isn’t, but I will not have you force yourself into wanting me.”

Geralt hummed and shut his eyes for moment.  Jaskier suspected he was trying to scrounge up the right thing to say. It must be hard to force yourself to care about others,  Jaskier thought grimly as he kicked a small rock across the trail they stood on. 

All at once, a warm hand wrapped around  Jaskier’s wrist and his eyes met a fierce golden gaze. Geralt stared at him for a moment, tugging him closer.  Jaskier’s heart thundered in his ears and he knew the other man must hear it as well. Before he could pull away and put distance between them again, Geralt broke the silence.

“I am only going to say this once, and then I will leave you be. You do not have to follow me if that is not what you desire to do, but don’t leave solely because you believe that is what I want. I want you to stay by my side until your legs are weak and you can no longer travel. I want you to sing your beautiful ballads until my ears ache and your voice quivers. I know that the feelings we share are those of friends, and I am deeply sorry for making you believe otherwise,  Jaskier . You are my truest friend, and I would be far worse off without you by my side on this Path.” 

Well.

Friends. He’d never heard that term slip past  Geralt's lips before.  It sounded so beautiful coming from them.

Jaskier’s mind was somehow racing and blank all at once. It felt as though he was standing in a dream where everything he’d wanted to hear was being poured onto him. What a beautiful dream. But Geralt’s fingers shook at their place on  Jaskier’s sleeve, and his eyes flicked around nervously. Not a dream then. 

It must have been silent for far too long because Roach cut through the tension with a soft noise, wandering away from them to rest in a shadier spot not far from the men. 

“ Jask ?” There it was again, the rarely used nickname rolling off  Geralt’s tongue like it belonged there. Like  Jaskier belonged there at his side. “I know we have been apart for a time, but nothing has changed for me. Nothing faded. I had hoped it would, for that would mean that your anger might have faded as well, but I still feel the way I felt when you ran away.” 

Jaskier’s heart wrenched. He had hoped Geralt would’ve forgotten him and continued with his life, hunting and brooding throughout the continent without a care. He hadn’t wanted Geralt to  hurt alongside him, even from a distance. 

He could hear insects buzzing through the air, and the wind tickling the leaves in the trees. He could hear his own breaths coming out sharp and stunted. He could hear his heart pounding and the blood rushing in his ears.  He did not know what he would hear when he opened his mouth and allowed words to slip free. 

“You were my best friend, Geralt.” He croaked, finally relaxing into  Geralt’s hold.

“You are my best friend.” Geralt responded, pulling the bard into a tight embrace.  Jaskier couldn’t help but allow a wet laugh to escape him as he realized how strange they must look to any passerby. They were far from perfect, but maybe they would remain on common ground this time around. Great had offered him the words he’d craved, opening a door that was slammed months before on a lonely mountaintop. 

“ So you missed my songs, dear Wolf?”  Jaskier asked, pressing a light kiss to  Geralt’s cheek as he pulled away. The blush that colored the place his lips met was nearly more satisfying than the apology he had just received. 

“Don’t get too big for your breeches, bard.” Geralt replied, wiping his cheek and fighting back a smile, “I picked up two contracts for two villages, but I think they are being plagued by the same demon. We can reach the first village by nightfall if you hurry.” He continued as he moved to gather Roach’s reigns and tug her gently towards the road. 

Jaskier couldn’t quell the happiness that burned within him. While they hadn’t discussed their little ‘kissing moment’ from the inn, he was still satisfied. He had returned to his Witcher and he was pleased with that.  All he had to do was  remember that Geralt was his friend, his travel companion, his muse, but never his lover. 

As they walked, he fetched his lute and began to strum a tune. Geralt did not fuss once as he sang the lyrics softly and trailed behind his Witcher. 

_“And I am sure I'll be just fine_  
_If I remember she wasn't ever mine_  
_And I am sure I'll be just fine_  
_If I remember she wasn't ever mine”_

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so if you were wondering.... this is not the end!! Welcome to my new series about Jaskier and Geralt falling apart and falling together to a Ron Pope soundtrack. I'm hoping to get the next installment out very soon! Thanks for reading :) 
> 
> Get ready for some fun Jealous!Geralt and fwb moments!


End file.
